


A Forever Kind of Love

by teamfreeawesome



Series: a multitude of lifetimes [3]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Depression, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Romance, Slice of Life, True Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-25
Updated: 2014-10-25
Packaged: 2018-02-22 13:22:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2509310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teamfreeawesome/pseuds/teamfreeawesome
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Colby knows he's lucky.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Forever Kind of Love

**Author's Note:**

> This series follows Finn and Colby's lives together in a non-linear fashion.

Air is supposed to feel soft against skin; a caress, perhaps. Eddies of it swirl around bodies, sweet fingers playing across mouths until breathing is normal and hearts beat steady against bone. Colby’s been in this bed for hours, the sheets rumpled around his thighs, but he can’t move. Finn’s at work, has been since seven this morning, and he thinks that they’re meeting for lunch.

There’s a weight sat on Colby’s hips, across his chest, and each breath he struggles to draw burns welts into the skin of his lungs. He wonders if he’s supposed to be able to breathe like this, or if it’s just the world’s way of telling him that it doesn’t matter. That he doesn’t matter.

His hands twitch as his phone buzzes, and Colby _wants_ to answer. He does. He watches it bounce against the wood of his bedside table, loud in the quiet of the room, and licks his lips. Finn’s probably worried. He sighs, fighting against the tightness of his chest, and turns his head, cheek scratchy against his pillow. The phone vibrates again, louder and more insistent, and Colby breathes. Breathes and breathes and breathes, and wonders if today will end soon.

 

//

 

Finn’s mother is sixty-seven and she loves Colby with something fierce. It’s nice, to be loved like that, even if the chemicals spiralling through Colby’s bloodstream are telling him that there’s nothing and no one; not even Finn.

Colby walks through her front door, Finn at his back, and she’s got her arms around him, strong, fierce and so, so warm. She smells like home; like Finn and apple pie and sweet peas.

“Sweetheart,” she says, and she shapes her words just like Finn does. “It’s so good to see you.”

Colby knows that Finn keeps her updated; knows that she knows it’s bad right now. Not as bad as it has been, but bad. She worries.

“Sit, love,” she insists, and pulls him into a chair with the softest smile. “I’ll put the kettle on.”

She gives him cake and tea and holds his hand – and Colby shudders, cries, and knows it’s okay to do that here; it’s okay and she loves him and loves Finn, and this is what family tastes like. This is what family tastes like.

 

//

 

Their bed is a mess of rumpled sheets and crumbs because Finn likes to eat toast in bed. Finn gets up with the dawn, light just seeping across the sky, and he’s soft and hazy through Colby’s half-shut eyes. He glows with something, sweetly, and Colby blinks, cat-like, as the sun filters in through their curtains. There’s something infinitely delightful about waking up like this, Colby thinks.

Finn smiles, pressing a kiss to Colby’s hair, and leaves. The click of the kettle follows soon afterwards, and Colby smiles sleepily, sinking back into the warm cocoon of his bedding. It’s nice, here; a little bubble of happiness that they have to themselves on these mornings. Slowly, as the steady rumble of the kettle settles in Colby’s ears, the light grows brighter, and Colby stretches. His legs slide across the sheets, one foot poking out from under the covers.

Cool air tickles his sole and he squirms, smiling softly as Finn comes in with a tray. It’s laden with tea, juice and toast, Colby’s favourite cereal sitting precariously on the side. He hates milk, though, can’t stand it, so Finn only gives him a little. Makes him eat croissants or scones or something else instead.

“You can’t exist entirely on cereal,” he says, and Colby sticks out his tongue, tells him he _can_.

“If you want scurvy, perhaps,” Finn snorts, but lets it go.

They sit there, the two of them, content, and Colby thinks that he is lucky. He is so lucky, and he loves Finn with everything he has; with every breath and every heartbeat, and he will look after every freckle that dots Finn’s skin until the end of time.

 

//

 

Colby writes often, but it comes out bleeding. It’s stained red across the page, his hurt clear in ink – and there’s something painful about that. About only being able to write about the wounds, about despair, when Colby is made of more than that.

Finn sits with him sometimes, head resting on Colby’s shoulders as he scribbles, and it’s nice. Colby doesn’t feel nice, though. He feels heavy; a burden. It’s hard on Finn, this. Colby. He knows that; wishes he was healthy and lovely, and Finn might tell him he loves him every day, but that’s not the same as knowing. Knowing that Colby is a weight, heavy on Finn’s heart.

“Colbs,” Finn says, eyes wide and sincere. “I wouldn’t just leave you.”

Colby knows that, he does, but he needs Finn to listen. To feel this scar that Colby has, ragged and rough inside him, and know it hard, know it intimately.

“You could,” he says, and it’s fierce, dark on his tongue. “Some days I want you to. It’s not going to just go away, Finn. It doesn’t leave; it abates. You will be weighed down by me for eternity and I don’t know that I can do that to you.”

Finn smiles, and it’s so sad that Colby aches with it.

“I love you,” he says. “Colby, I have tied myself to you with everything that I have, and I love you. I love you for better, for worse, and for the way that you are. Depression is not you, but it sits beside you and I have known that since we started dating. I won’t leave you. You are not a burden; what you are is mine. And I am yours.”

Colby cries, curled up and aching, and under the tears his mouth shapes the words too, because they are true and always will be.

“I love you too,” he says, and it doesn’t change anything, even as it changes everything.

 

//

 

Finn keeps stones in his sock drawer, and Colby thinks it’s adorable. They’re little pebbles, souvenirs of beach trips they’ve taken together, and there’s something beautiful about that; about stones holding memories.

Colby takes them out sometimes; sets them down next to each other and runs his fingers over each. One day he will write about Finn; he will write about the way his face lights up, starlight across his features, when he talks about his job. He will write about Finn’s laughter and his rocks, and the way his face shines when he looks at Colby. And the way that Colby feels when he does.

 

//

 

Walls are made of bricks, working together, and that’s how Colby’s body works too. Together. It seems so odd, then, to have mortar that undermines; mortar that lets the rain seep in to wash it away, when it’s the only thing holding him up. Finn coaxes him into the shower, some days, grinning wide, and Colby doesn’t have the words to tell him that it’s one of the days where it feels like Colby’s skin is being ripped from his bones. That every flash of a smile that Finn grazes across his body feels like pins, sharp and inescapable.

Finn, knows, though, more often than not. He curls around Colby, holds him tight, and that hurts too, but it’s like applying pressure to a wound; it stems the flow, some.

 

//

 

Colby likes flowers, and Colby likes Finn.

He buys Finn orange blossom, often. The flowers sit there on the windowsill, bright and sweet, and it’s Colby’s affection, his love, sitting there, loud and clear.

I love you, they say, and Finn takes such good care of his love. Waters them well and loves them true.

 

//

 

They kiss, often. It’s Finn’s favourite thing, and Colby likes it too. Likes the taste of Finn’s mouth against his, soft, slow and deep. Finn smells like vanilla, warm against Colby. He’s taller, and his hands span big as they cradle Colby’s cheeks, softly. His head ducks forwards, into the curve of Colby’s neck, and he bites down, gently, before soothing the spot with his tongue, warm and wet. Colby shivers, heat running down his spine, and shuffles closer. Smiling, the stretch of his mouth clear against Colby’s skin, he kisses up Colby’s neck and cheek, up past his ear, soft and warm, before pulling back. Brushing a strand of hair back, Finn’s eyes meet Colby’s, and they’re dark, heated, pupils blown wide. Edges of brown stand around the edge, and Colby wants to sink into it, puddles of chocolate sitting in his belly, and he huffs.

The room is quiet, and it feels intimate, Finn’s breath warm across Colby’s lips. Shivering, Colby sways slightly, balls of his feet aching gently, and Finn hums. Leaning back in, he presses a kiss to the edge of Colby’s cheekbone, big hands coming down to brush across his shoulders, sliding down further until they sit at the small of his back, pulling Colby closer.

“I love you,” he murmurs and Colby moans softly.

“I love you too,” he says, pulling Finn to his mouth. “I love you.”

It’s intense, this, and shivery, and Colby almost can’t breathe with how much he loves it; loves Finn. Their mouths meet, open and wanting, and Colby moans again. It’s lips against lips, tongues just darting past each other, until Colby moves, closer, and sucks Finn’s lower lip into his mouth. It’s warm, this, pressed chest to chest, Finn’s hands moving restless across his back, and Colby could do this forever.

He could do this forever.

 

//

 

Rocks are something of a Finn speciality. It makes sense that this one would shine like that; would shine like Finn does.

“Marry me,” Finn says, one knee against the tile in their kitchen, and for a moment Colby doesn’t know how to speak. “I love you, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Marry me?”

Heart beating light in his chest, Colby feels huge, bright and glowing. His delight stretches across the world, lights lamps and sends fireworks into the sky.

“Yes,” he says. “Yes, yes, yes.”

 

//

 

It’s a forever kind of love, after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Cross-posted from my [Tumblr](http://teamfreeawesome.tumblr.com).


End file.
